


Lawful Good

by gayalondiel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayalondiel/pseuds/gayalondiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Arthur has Merlin executed for practicing sorcery, the sun shines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lawful Good

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Merlin TV series uses mythical characters in an interpretation which is the property of Shine Productions. No ownership is implied or inferred. This is done for love only.

The day Arthur has Merlin executed for practicing sorcery, the sun shines. The sky is a brilliant blue with only tiny, pure white clouds scudding across it in the soft breeze. There are birds flitting from the shelter of trees and eaves into the sunshine, playing in the warm air and calling cheerily to one another. It's as if the world doesn't know that what’s happening today is a tragedy.

Arthur has an idea that Merlin could change it, if he wanted. Could hide the sun in layers of darkening cloud and rolling thunder, could bring rain and storm and wind and douse the flames of his living pyre with waters from the heavens so thoroughly that it would never be lit again. But he doesn't. He just stands there as the flame catches the kindling at his feet. He smiles at Arthur, that gentle, quirked, slightly cheeky smile.

Like he doesn't know it's a tragedy.

Gaius has left. Not from Camelot, but from the court. He won't see Arthur or Uther, won't give any of them the smallest moment, but he will not abandon the townsfolk who rely on his help. He's moved in with Gwen, for now, where he doesn't have to be near the castle and surrounded reminders of Merlin. He had waited three days before leaving, three days expecting them to come for him at any moment, despite Merlin's unrelenting insistence that Gaius had no idea about his magic, could not have known, had a history of supporting the king's stance about sorcery and wasn't it obvious that he would have said something if he had known.

Everyone knows that's preposterous, that Merlin views him as a father and the affection and intimacy runs both ways. But no-one has the heart to pursue Gaius, not the broken king, not the embattled prince regent, not the court, and so Gaius has left.

The last time Arthur had been down to visit Merlin, Gaius had been there. He had overheard Merlin telling him not to come today, it would be all right, he doesn't want him to see. But down in the crowd, Arthur can see a head of thinning white hair and a washed out face, already emptied of the tears it had to cry.

Gwaine threatened to kill him when he found out, in front of the entire court. Arthur knows there would have been several knights on his side even with the loss of Lancelot, and they were all watching and waiting for the cue to storm the cells and make a break for outlawry with their friend rather than continue in loyal service to the prince who had turned his back on him. But the guards had dragged Gwaine away to a cell and when Arthur went to try to explain, later, he found him angry but quiet, glaring rather than shouting.

"Merlin says I have to protect you in his place," he had explained, the simple words slicing through both their hearts like cruel steel. Arthur forgot to ask how Merlin managed to tell him that from his own guarded cell, as far from Gwaine as possible. It didn't seem important. But when he left Gwaine with a promise he would be out in a few hours, he went to Merlin's cell and dismissed the guards. Merlin had looked up at him and smiled.

"Gwaine offered to do the job for me," he had said, lightly, if he was discussing collecting a parcel or something equally mundane. "Said it would hurt less. But we have to do this right, don't we?"

Even then, it was still we.

Arthur watches the flames rising around Merlin's feet, ankles, lapping at his worn trousers, and Merlin's expression flickers but restores itself to serenity with a hint of cheeriness. He had made the whole thing so easy. Arthur wishes he hadn't, that he had fought, that he had run. Anything to spare him this, to spare them all this.

Gwen has only spoken to him once after her impassioned pleading before the whole court, when he turned his back on everything that his heart was telling him to do and laid out before her the rule of law. The law laid down by his father, the king. The law that said sorcery was punished by death. The precedents that showed that Merlin had to die, to be executed before the people, because that was how this was done. It was first of all the rules his father had taught him about governance of a kingdom, that there could not be one rule for the king and another for the rest. That he could not turn his back on that rule for the sake of one man. That he could not be lenient, kind, just because his friends were asking. Especially when it was his friends who were asking.

Even for his best friend, the law was the law.

Merlin has spoken to Gwen, he knows that much. He told Arthur that she'd come round, understand, in time. He had been so calm and thoughtful, and Arthur had wished that he would shout, scream, protest, plead, anything. Anything but that relentless, repeated calmness.

"It's fine. This is how it has to be. I get it. I always knew it could happen."

His father is proud, in his own way. He hasn't come today, not wanting to take the usual glory in a defeat of the old ways, and suffering a little from the diminution of his care. His servants are attentive enough, but they're not a patch on Gaius, who won't see either of them, and Gwen, who bursts into tears every time anyone tries to talk to her. He isn't happy about it - despite appearences he, like everyone else, could see the worth and the heart of Arthur's hapless personal servant. But he is proud of his son for making the right decision, the lawful decision, no matter how difficult it was.

If he knew how close Arthur had been, every minute of every day, to taking a different course, he would not be so proud. Arthur had longed to go back on his word, the rule of law and his position, to fight his own way through the guards, burst into the cell, gather Merlin into his arms in a way that he'd never allowed himself to do before, couldn't possibly have allowed while Merlin was a servant and he a prince, while Gwen and he shared adoring kisses and Lancelot had been looking at Merlin that way he did when he thought no-one would notice. If he could have broken his judgement and his father's law then he could have defied everything, convention and expectations and honour and taking advantage of his position be damned, he could have kissed Merlin the way he'd wanted to for so long, kissed him and rescued him and whisked him away to a secret life together somewhere.

He thinks of it constantly, and has to tell himself that if Merlin wanted to escape, he wouldn't need Arthur to rescue him. That much, now, is painfully obvious. Still, every bone in his body is screaming at him even now to break his statue-like posture, draw his sword, fight through the flames to his friend and cut him free.

But it's too late. The flames are high now, and the crowd is silent, mourning what must be done, what cannot be undone now the judgement is passed. Gaius is huddled, Gwen is weeping, the knights are grim-faced and silent, but one by one they look away from the fire.

Arthur forces himself to watch until the last second, locking gazes with his faithful protector, his useless servant, his best friend. Tries in that last moment to speak the words he'd never got out before, and somehow sees understanding and returned affection, and impossibly, that twinkling grin he never thought to see again. And then Merlin blinks in the smoke, and the spark in his eyes, golden and beautiful, fades and is gone, and Arthur makes himself watch it go.

Merlin is still smiling.

~~~

Much later, after discussions and plans and meetings and meals that he couldn't do more than pick at, Arthur returns to his rooms and drops onto the bed. It's tidy. Very tidy. Too tidy. That echo, the whisper of Merlin's inexpert and yet just right touch in his life, it's gone. He feels cold, and more alone than he's ever felt before.

The stone mask that he's been wearing since Merlin was dragged before him begins to crack. The evidence had been irrefutable and Merlin, with a tired smile, had not tried to hide the fact that he'd used magic to keep a fire going in winter, in the snow, where it was cold and the patrol he had volunteered to accompany were lost and tired and in danger of losing extremities and possibly their lives. Merlin had used magic, and the law was death on any who did so. So Arthur had carved himself a mask of stone, because he had to get through this, he had to be seen to get through this, and he had worn that mask through the pleas and anger and protests he had faced hourly from that day to this. The law was the law, and he was the prince, and that was that.

Now, alone, the mask cracks and he lets himself cry, soft, quiet tears that he cannot and will not hold back.

But there's a touch on his cheek, and a gentle thumb wipes through the damp tracks on his skin. He opens his eyes, and there is that twinkling smile before him again.

It's impossible, and it's amazing.

"You didn't believe me," Merlin says, his voice sparkling and not at all accusatory. "I told you it would be fine." He drops his hand and sits next to Arthur on the bed. Arthur looks at him, touches his face in reply, and it's warm. Solid. Real.

"How?" he asks, and Merlin smiles.

"It's complicated."

"But..."

"Very complicated. I don't really understand, and I did it. What chance has an idiot like you got of getting it?" He grins, showing teeth, and the spell of stillness around them shatters. Arthur cannot hold back any longer and he grabs Merlin by the shoulders and kisses him, hard, possessive, a kiss that tells him he's never letting go ever again, not ever. When he backs away, heart pounding with sudden doubt, Merlin is beaming and his fingers are tangling in Arthur's shirt.

"Finally," he breathes, before tackling Arthur to the bed and proving just how alive he is.

~~~

Much, much later, when they're entwined in sheets and sweat and one another, Arthur finds his voice.

"So," he says. It's not particularly erudite, but Merlin understands the question.

"Yep," he replies. "I'm completely secret now. Only you know I didn't die out there, so I can protect you without having either of us having to worry about me or that stupid law."

"The law..."

"Is wrong," says Merlin firmly. "And when you get it fixed, which can't be now but should be soon, then we can decide what to do about telling people. For now I'm just yours."

Arthur can't help smiling and tightening his arms around his sorcerer. "Just mine?"

"Well..."

"Merlin? No more secrets."

Merlin twitches. "Gaius knows. I told him. Don't be upset. He's like..."

"I know," says Arthur as Merlin trails off. "He acted his part very well, but I guess he's been covering for you for years?"

"Since I got here," Merlin confirms. He snuggles closer to Arthur's chest. "To be honest I don't think he thought I could do it. And I know you didn't think I could, so he was probably terrified. I should go see him."

"Right now?" Arthur tightens his arms, and a breathy giggle tickles his chest as Merlin exhales, and a warm and interested pulse thrums under Merlin's skin.

"Soon," he replies. Arthur tugs and Merlin responds and then there's everything, warmth and sweat, gasping breath and rushing blood, pounding hearts and eyes that sparkle, magic and power and sparks of wonder in the air.

And life.


End file.
